Jillian's pulse quickened as she took in the two men standing in her path. They weren't just bouncers or random thugs. Their suits were too well-tailored, their posture too controlled. They were professionals.
Dante shifted slightly beside her, ready for a fight. "Friends of yours?" he muttered under his breath.
One of the men smirked. "Jillian Smith. You have quite the habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."
Jillian's expression didn't waver. "You must have me confused with someone else."
The second man chuckled. "Let's not play games. You've been digging, asking questions. Someone doesn't like that."
Jillian's mind raced. Who sent them? Victor? Camilla? Or was it someone else entirely?
She met the man's gaze. "And who exactly is 'someone'?"
The first man took a step closer. "You're smart enough to figure that out. But not smart enough to stop."
Dante's patience snapped. "If you have a message, deliver it and get out of our way."
The man's smirk widened. "Oh, it's not just a message. It's a warning."
Before Jillian could react, the second man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black envelope. He held it out to her.
"Read it carefully. It might be the last thing you ever receive."
Jillian took the envelope, her fingers tightening around the smooth paper. She had the feeling that once she opened it, there would be no turning back.
Jillian turned the envelope over in her hands, her heart pounding. The paper was thick, expensive—whoever sent this wanted to make a statement. Dante stood close, his body tense. He didn't like this. Neither did she.
She slipped a finger under the seal and tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded with precision. The handwriting was elegant, deliberate:
"Turn back while you still can.
The next warning will not be words."
Beneath the message, a small, dark stain smudged the bottom of the page—blood.
Jillian's grip tightened. She wasn't scared. She was angry.
She looked up, but the two men were already walking away, blending into the crowd like ghosts. No one else in the room even seemed to notice what had just happened. That meant power. Influence.
Dante leaned in, reading over her shoulder. "Well, that's subtle."
Jillian folded the note carefully. "They're scared."
Dante frowned. "Or they're setting you up."
Jillian exhaled. She had been threatened before—but this felt different. Personal. Whoever sent this wasn't just warning her. They were making sure she knew she was being watched.
And that meant one thing: She was getting close.
Dante's jaw tightened. "What now?"
Jillian tucked the letter inside her jacket and met his gaze. "Now? We push harder."
Dante sighed, rubbing his temple. "You just got a death threat, and your response is to dig deeper?"
Jillian smirked. "You know me."
Dante muttered something under his breath but didn't argue. He knew there was no stopping her.
Jillian glanced around the casino. Everything seemed normal—too normal. She had a gut feeling this wasn't over. Whoever sent that message wouldn't just leave it at a note.
They were setting her up for something.
She turned to Dante. "We need to disappear for a while. If they're watching, let's give them something to see."
Dante raised an eyebrow. "You thinking misdirection?"
Jillian nodded. "They want me scared. They want me to back down. Instead, let's make them believe I'm taking their warning seriously. We'll lay low, make it seem like I'm retreating."
Dante crossed his arms. "And while we're 'hiding'?"
Jillian's smirk returned. "We find out who sent that letter. And we hit them first."
Dante let out a low chuckle. "That's why I like you, Jill."
Just then, Leo's voice crackled back to life in her earpiece.
"Jill… we have a problem."
Jillian's smirk faded. "What kind of problem?"
"I just traced a call made right after you got that letter. The source? Victor Holloway's private line."
Jillian's blood ran cold. Victor.
Dante tensed. "You think he's the one behind this?"
Jillian exhaled slowly. "I don't know… but I intend to find out."
Jillian wiped the sweat from her forehead, her breathing heavy as she adjusted her stance. The underground training area, hidden beneath an old warehouse, was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of dust and sweat. Dante stood in front of her, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"Again," he instructed.
She clenched her fists, her body sore from hours of practice, but she refused to stop. She had to be stronger—had to be ready. Victor Holloway wasn't going to stop until he had her broken.
Then Leo's voice cut through the air.
"Jillian! Answer your phone!"
She froze. The urgency in his tone sent a chill down her spine. She grabbed her phone off the bench, barely glancing at the screen before answering.
"Leo?"
"Jillian—your grandmother's house is on fire!"
The world seemed to tilt. Her grip on the phone tightened, her heart pounding.
"What?! Is she—did she—"
"The neighbors got her out in time, but the house..." Leo hesitated. "It's gone, Jillian."
Dante took a step closer, reading the panic on her face. "What happened?" he asked, his voice low.
She could barely get the words out. "My grandmother's house. It—it was burned down."
For a moment, there was silence. Then, Dante exhaled sharply. "This wasn't random."
Jillian swallowed the lump in her throat, the weight of it all pressing down on her. She knew exactly who did this.
Victor's warning had just turned into a full-blown declaration of war.
Jillian wiped the sweat from her forehead, her breathing heavy as she adjusted her stance. The underground training area, hidden beneath an old warehouse, was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of dust and sweat. Dante stood in front of her, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"Again," he instructed.
She clenched her fists, her body sore from hours of practice, but she refused to stop. She had to be stronger—had to be ready. Victor Holloway wasn't going to stop until he had her broken.
Then Leo's voice cut through the air.
"Jillian! Answer your phone!"
She froze. The urgency in his tone sent a chill down her spine. She grabbed her phone off the bench, barely glancing at the screen before answering.
"Leo?"
"Jillian—your grandmother's house is on fire!"
The world seemed to tilt. Her grip on the phone tightened, her heart pounding.
"What?! Is she—did she—"
"The neighbors got her out in time, but the house..." Leo hesitated. "It's gone, Jillian."
Dante took a step closer, reading the panic on her face. "What happened?" he asked, his voice low.
She could barely get the words out. "My grandmother's house. It—it was burned down."
For a moment, there was silence. Then, Dante exhaled sharply. "This wasn't random."
Jillian swallowed the lump in her throat, the weight of it all pressing down on her. She knew exactly who did this.
Victor's warning had just turned into a full-blown declaration of war.